What Blooms Amidst the Storm
by thunderdaughter
Summary: Another possible take on the Neville/Hannah relationship and how it developed over the years, starting with a meeting neither remembers. Disclaimer: I am not, of course, JK Rowling and this is not my world, I'm just playing in it.
1. Chapter 1: Before the Storm

Anne Abbott straightened her skirt for the fifth time. She was always nervous about meeting her husband's wizardly colleagues. It was awkward to be the only Muggle in the group, the only one who couldn't reminisce about old times at Hogwarts and offer to do the dishes with a flick of a wand. But Michael swore up and down that the Longbottoms were lovely people, and they had a baby son just about their Hannah's age, and anyway they'd had to go into hiding and it was practically an act of charity to visit them.

"What do you mean, they had to go into hiding?"

"Some sort of prophecy that led You-Know-Who to think that their baby son might be a danger to him someday. Either him or another boy who was born the day after he was."

"That's horrible! Michael, they're hunting children over a prophecy? What is this, Greek mythology?" Sometimes, Anne had a hard time believing her husband's world was actually real - and sometimes, it felt safer that way.

"Prophecies do have a way of coming true in the wizarding world. Which is good, because it means we have hope of defeating him. Anyway, Dumbledore's taking no chances and has put both families under the Fidelius Charm."

"What does that mean?"

"Essentially, they perform a spell that keeps their location hidden from everyone - even those who knew perfectly well where their house was the day before - except their chosen Secret-Keeper, who is the only one who can tell people where to find them, and the only one who could betray them to the person they're hiding from. Frank's Mum is theirs, so they're perfectly safe, she'd never betray them to anyone."

"Anyone will betray anyone under torture. That's a given."

"You can't torture the secret out of a Secret-Keeper. That's part of the magic. It has to be freely given, and Mrs. Longbottom would never give away her family. I'd hate to be the Death Eater assigned to go after her, in any case. You'll understand when you meet her - she's a force of nature. "

"That sounds ominous."

"A bit, but Frank and Alice are perfectly charming people. You'll like them."

She smiled at him warmly. "I'm sure I will." Inside, though, the knot of anxiety hadn't quite gone away.

It only got bigger when she was introduced to Augusta Longbottom. She was, indeed, formidable, slender and straight-backed with fierce dark eyes that looked right through people. On anyone else, the tall hat with the vulture on it would have looked ridiculous - on her, it looked like a threat, and Anne was fairly sure she intended it that way.

But the older woman actually unbent enough to smile at them, and even to coo a bit at little Hannah, who had fallen asleep in her car seat as usual. She told them to leave their car where it was, and led them around the corner to a comfortable-looking cottage with a huge and brightly-colored garden.

By the time they got to the door, Hannah was stirring, waking up with her usual wide-eyed expression, and thankfully, no tears yet. A plump, sweet-faced young woman with a baby on her hip opened the door, and greeted them with a pleasant smile.

"Alice, this is my wife, Anne, and our little girl, Hannah. Anne, this is Alice Longbottom."

"I'm so glad to meet you! This is our little Neville. Neville, can you say hello to your new friend?"

Baby Neville looked up, quizzically. Spotting Hannah, he smiled brightly. "Ba-ba-ba!"

Hannah hid her head shyly in her father's shoulder. "She just woke up - she always falls asleep in the car, and she's a little groggy."

"I understand totally. But it's so nice when they sleep all the way there, rather than yell, isn't it? Come in, come in!"

Augusta demurred, saying, "I'll excuse myself now, dear, with a little kiss for Neville if I may?" Neville was already reaching for his grandmother, who gave him a kiss on the forehead and a little cuddle before returning him. "Algie and I are going to be dining with Minerva and Pomona in Hogsmeade this evening. Pomona's got some new plants from her summer expedition that she wanted to show Algie, and we'll spend the night in Hogwarts' guest rooms. Albus thinks it's safer that way."

"All right, Mum. We'll see you tomorrow afternoon, then." Alice kissed the older woman gently on the cheek, while simultaneously carefully detaching Neville's chubby little fist from his grandmother's pearl necklace.

Augusta nodded briskly, and turned to the Abbots. "It was very nice to meet you. Have a pleasant evening," and left. When she reached the edge of the walkway, Anne noticed, she vanished with a soft "pop".

Alice led them into a cozy, brightly-lit room with a fireplace and a comfortable wraparound couch. A large play mat sat in the middle of the floor, scattered with soft plush and rubber toys, and Alice deposited Neville on it, where he immediately picked up a stuffed toad and began to chew on a leg. "You can put Hannah here, if you like. They're a bit young to actually play together, but who knows, maybe they'll make friends."

Michael let Hannah carefully down onto the mat, where she looked around her, and promptly decided that her best option was to roll over onto her back and kick madly at a toy cauldron hanging from a mobile suspended over the mat, which made a pleasant jingly noise. Neville, delighted by the sound, giggled happily and shook the toad, which added a soft chime to the jingle. "See? They're already forming a band," Michael chuckled.

"Anything that makes noise," Alice said fondly. "And it helps if it's shiny, too. Lately I can't even chew gum without him grabbing for the wrappers, because they're pretty and brightly colored and crinkle so nicely...but all the toads are gifts from Algie, Frank's uncle. He's an Herbologist - rather eccentric, but reasonably well-respected in the field - and very fond of toads, because of the way they eat garden pests, you know."

A tall, solidly built man in a patterned cardigan and khakis came through the French windows from the enclosed garden in the back, brushing dirt from his hands. _These people really like flowers, I suppose,_ thought Anne, and her avid gardener's heart warmed to them. "Hello, all! Sorry to be late, I just got caught up in de-gnoming the garden. There were more of them than I'd expected."

 _De-gnoming? Wizards even have odd gardening problems..._ "Frank! I was wondering where you were. Anne, dear, this is the other half of the most dangerous Auror team on the force, Frank Longbottom. Frank, my wife Anne, and that's our daughter Hannah rolling around on the floor with your son there."

"Pleased to meet you." His handshake was firm and comfortable, and his smile genial. "I'll go wash up, and then shall we sit down and have a drink or two before dinner? What do you like, Anne?"

As the conversation progressed, through drinks and dinner, Anne felt the knot in her stomach disappearing. Michael had been right, the Longbottoms were warm, welcoming, and friendly, with no apparent sneering at her non-magical status. It was much like having a conversation with any other pair of new parents, except of course for the inevitable discussion of which Hogwarts Houses their children would be in. And there, they actually asked for her opinion, as if, even though she was a Muggle who had not gone to Hogwarts, she was still an intelligent and thoughtful person who had a hand in her child's upbringing. She had responded, simply, by asking which House had the fewest Death Eaters, and all three of the other adults had instantly replied, "Hufflepuff."

"Well, then, I hope she's a Hufflepuff." It didn't seem quite polite to admit that she really hoped Hannah would be a Squib, and get to stay safely at home with her away from the dangers these people took for granted every day of their lives.

"Can't say that I'd be unhappy if Neville is Sorted into Hufflepuff, they're good people, and Ravenclaw would be fine, too. I have to admit, though, I am rather hoping he'll be a Gryffindor like Alice and I. If only because Mum has her heart set on it, and Mum tends to let people know when they disappoint her. It can be hard on a kid," Frank said ruefully, and Anne wondered how he had disappointed his mother, and what the consequences had been.

"He'll be what he is, and your Mum will cope with it," Alice said firmly, and offered the little boy another piece of banana, gently discouraging his attempts to smear it in his hair. "I just hope he doesn't have this bloody war hanging over his head the way we have. I want him to have some peace, and happiness, and a quiet safe job doing something he loves, with no cursing and no deaths and no having to look over his shoulder all the time."

"Hear, hear," said Anne, just as vehemently. "Let them have nice cozy lives with nothing to fear."

Hannah reached for her mother's plate, and Anne put a spoonful of peas on the tray before her, which she carefully picked up, studied intently, and ate one at a time.

"How are you coping with the confinement?" Michael tilted his head, an expression of concern on his face.

"Well enough. It's almost a vacation for us, to have lots of free time to spend with each other and Neville. It's the Potters who are worst off, especially James. He's always been restless."

"I don't know the Potters very well - they're quite a bit younger than us, aren't they?"

"They're only twenty-one. They wouldn't have overlapped at all with your time at Hogwarts, but they were both first-years when Alice and I were seventh-years."

Alice nodded. "We got to know them mainly because Lily asked me for advice and help on becoming an Auror herself someday. I hope she does, when this all blows over, perhaps when little Harry's a bit older too. She's got talent, and courage, and she could really do well."

"How do you manage, being an Auror and the parent of a young child, though?" Anne asked, hastening to add, "I mean, you're obviously doing something right, he's such a happy baby, but it must be hard."

"It is hard, honestly. We generally end up taking different shifts to get as much time with one of us home as possible, and we're very lucky to have Frank's mother nearby to help, of course. But it's always a strain. The Ministry's trying to be helpful - so many of us have died in this war that they're really eager to encourage as much replenishing of the magical population as possible - but it's slow work to get a bureaucracy to change the way it thinks. Lily will have it easier than us, I suspect, though, because James comes from a wealthy family and they can afford for him to be a stay-at-home dad while she works." There was no jealousy in her tone, though, only quiet thoughtfulness.

"You should have married money, dearest," Frank teased.

"Nonsense. Money is terrible in bed, and you can't hold a reasonable conversation with it either. I married the love of my life, and I wouldn't have it any other way." Her shining eyes gave truth to her words, and Frank's face reflected the light on hers. Anne found herself absurdly touched, and Michael squeezed her hand under the table.

"In any case," Frank went on, "we've become much closer friends since Alice and Lily got pregnant at the same time - the boys were born only a day apart. Lily even asked us to be Harry's godparents, along with James's best friend Sirius, and they and our old friend Kingsley did the same for our Neville. We were hoping the boys would grow up together, so that even if Neville ends up an only child, he'd still have a godbrother at least - but then, well, all this happened. Hopefully it won't be long before the crisis is over, at least."

"From what Michael says, you're horribly outnumbered, though. What if you lose this war?"

"We won't. We can't afford to."

The grim looks traded between the three Aurors were not reassuring, Anne thought. Nor was the way they quickly steered the conversation to safer topics. Finally, when Hannah got bored with eating peas and began to throw them at Neville instead, and Neville, clearly considering this a highly entertaining game, responded with a handful of banana, they decided it was time to clean off the children and retire to the living room again.

It was late before the Abbotts took their leave, and Anne realized to her surprise that the evening had passed far more pleasantly than she'd expected. She admitted as much to Michael in the car. "You were right, they are lovely people. We should have them over for dinner once they're out of hiding. And Hannah can always use another little one her own age to play with..."

But it was the last time the two couples ever met.


	2. Chapter 2: The Chick Leaves the Nest

Anne put down the picture of the smiling couples on the couch, the babies giggling on their parents' laps, and closed her eyes, the lump forming again in her throat. It had been only a few weeks later that Kingsley Shacklebolt had come to her door, his face so sad and somber that she could tell what he was there for before he spoke. She had begun weeping uncontrollably even before he had opened his mouth to tell her of that raid gone horribly wrong, to speak of her husband's heroic sacrifice, how he had given his life to save others- and left her so bitterly alone. And only a bit after that – she wasn't quite clear how long, everything for the months after Michael's death was nothing more than a cold grey haze in her mind now – she'd heard about what happened later, first to the Potters she'd never met, killed in front of their baby, and then to that warm, generous, loving couple, how they'd been tortured until they broke and were now living in a wizard hospital with no hope of ever getting back to the people they had been. She had not heard what happened to little Neville – she could only hope and pray that the chubby, happy, lively boy had not been...she felt sick at the thought. _And I took Hannah and ran for safety, ran to hide where THEY wouldn't know where I was, and I've spent all these years doing everything I can to keep you safe, my precious baby girl..._

Tears prickled in her eyes. _And now...oh, my little one, my only joy in this world, what have you done?_ She caught herself sternly. _No, no, it's not your fault, it's not your fault, you can't help it...but how am I supposed to keep you safe now?_

She knocked softly on the six-year-old's door. "Can we talk, dear? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I got upset with you, but you scared me so..."

The door opened, and Hannah's pale, tear-streaked face peeked out. "I'm sorry, too, Mum, I didn't know it was wrong, I didn't mean to upset you..."

"No, no, honey, it wasn't wrong at all. I'm afraid for you, not angry at you. Your father was...your father could do that, too, you know." She perched on her daughter's bed, wondering how to say the rest of what she had to say.

"He could?" Hannah sat next to her and looked up into her face, startled and suddenly alight. "He could move things without touching them, too?"

She nodded. "And more than that. I'm sorry, Hannah, I've kept something from you for years that you need to know. That ability you have – is magic, real magic. Your father was a wizard. And from what I saw today, you're a witch, love." _And you're in far more danger than you know, and I'm terrified for you._

"A witch? Like the Wicked Witch of the West? I'm not wicked, Mum, am I?" The soft brown eyes widened, horrified.

"No, dear. Nor was your father. He was a good man, and there's nothing whatsoever evil about you. But this means...there's a whole world of people like you, and not all of them are good. Your father...I told you he was a police officer, and died in the course of his duty, and that wasn't exactly a lie. He was a policeman of a sort, a wizard policeman, they're called Aurors. And he died bravely fighting a war, against vicious and ruthless people – and while that war is over, many of those people are still alive and still eager to get back the power they wanted. I'm afraid that you being...what you are means that you're going to end up back in the middle of the danger that killed your father, and I can't bear to lose you too." She felt the tears gather in her eyes. "That's why I got so upset, not because you did anything wrong, I promise."

"So I'm really...a witch? Magic is real?" Anne nodded, unable to speak for the moment. "I don't think I'd believe you, if I hadn't seen...but what happens to me now, Mum? Do I have to go away or something, live with other people like me? I don't want to leave you, I don't!" Tears were starting to pour down Hannah's face, too.

Her mother pulled her close. "Not yet, not yet, you don't have to leave me just yet, and you don't have to leave for good, either. But there's a school, a school called Hogwarts, and if you have your father's magic, you'll get a letter in five years, when you're eleven, offering you admission. You need to go, for a bit, to learn to use your magic so you don't bottle it in - but you don't have to stay all seven years if you don't want to, darling, you can come home to me as soon as they've determined you have enough control not to become...dangerous." _Obscurial was the word Michael used...but best not scare Hannah any further._ "You don't have to live all by yourself in that world for good, we can find you a safe university in our world once you're trained up enough and you can have a normal life here if you want. You have to learn to use the magic, but you don't have to stay there." _Please don't want to stay there, darling, please come home to me where you're safe..._

"And if I want to stay? I mean, I don't want to leave you...but what if I like it there?" There was just a hint of rebellion in the tilt of her chin, but only a hint.

Anne bit back the fear that threatened to choke her, and managed to say, quietly but firmly, "We'll see when the time comes. But...let me tell you what happened to some good friends of your fathers, who also fought in that war, and maybe you'll understand why I want you as far away from their world as possible."

The next five years went by far too quickly for Anne Abbott's comfort. and the dreaded day arrived when the letter from Hogwarts came in the mail. Included was an invitation from one Pomona Sprout, Professor of Herbology and Head of Hufflepuff House, for a group trip to Diagon Alley "to help welcome you to the wizarding world."

Hannah came home from that trip with a set of robes, a stack of books, a cauldron, an elegant-looking tawny owl with a dignified air about her ("Her name is Melisande, Mum"), and a wand, flexible, 10 3/4 inches, pear wood with a unicorn tail-hair core. Anne set up an account for her at Gringotts, containing all the money from the widow's pension she'd gotten from the Auror department. She'd never needed to spend any of it - she made quite a decent living as an accountant, certainly for a family of only two - and really, what did she have to spend money on, if not her daughter? Anyway, it wasn't as if Hannah was reckless or irresponsible with money - she was more practical than Anne could ever remember herself being at that age. _Did Michael's death make her grow up too fast?_ But she seemed delighted with her new treasures, and spent hours in her room talking to Melisande and smoothing her feathers. The owl put up with it patiently, and even seemed to be growing fond of her. _Well, who wouldn't?_ Anne thought with biased affection.

The other dreaded day was not far behind, and Anne made her way carefully with Hannah to Platform 9 3/4, having been forewarned by Professor Sprout about the need to run headlong into a brick wall. _Well, that didn't hurt nearly as much as I expected_ , she thought crazily to herself as she and Hannah maneuvered their way through the crowds on the platform.

"I suppose this is it, dear heart. I'm going to miss you terribly, you know." She looked down at her daughter, trying and failing to keep her eyes from overflowing.

"I'm going to miss you, too, Mum. But don't worry about me, I promise I'll be all right. I love you." Hannah hugged her mother hard, but let go too soon for Anne's comfort, and turned to the train, where a red-haired girl with a determined chin helped her get her baggage and then herself into the car.

"I'm Susan. Susan Bones. What's your name? Want to sit together?" Anne heard the girl say to Hannah before the train door closed.

Anne waved goodbye until the train disappeared from sight, no longer trying to keep the tears from pouring down her face.

An older woman, tugging a wistful young girl behind her, both also redheads – _is red hair common among magical folk, then? -_ saw her tears and asked her, "Is it your first time dropping off, then?" Her expression was so warm and sympathetic that Anne didn't hesitate to reply.

"Yes. I've only got the one child, you see, and she's just turned eleven..."

"I've seven, myself. My first two are already through, I just dropped off my third, fourth, fifth and sixth, and this one will go next year, won't you, Ginny?" Little Ginny sulked quietly, clearly not happy about the wait. "It does get easier, I promise. Especially when they write to you about all the fun they're having. Although I could do with rather less of that from Fred and George..."

"I'm new to all of this. My late husband was a wizard, but I'm, I'm a Muggle," she said, mentally daring the other woman to draw back or pull away.

Instead, she only smiled more broadly and said, "Oh, are you, dear? I wish my husband were here to meet you, then, he's absolutely fascinated by Muggle technology. Of course, he'll probably try to convince you that he's a total innocent who doesn't even know what a rubber duck is for, but that's just his little joke, he uses it on everyone. By the way, my name's Molly, Molly Weasley."

"Anne Abbott. Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise. And I'm sure your girl's going to have a grand time at Hogwarts. Don't you worry."

"Is it safe there? I keep being told that it is, but..."

"Perfectly. Unless she's in Gryffindor, in which case my lot will probably end up getting her into mischief. The twins especially."

"Her father was a Hufflepuff."

"Oh, if she's there she'll be fine. Safest and coziest of the Houses, don't you worry. And Professor Sprout's a lovely woman, she'll take good care of her. Come on, let's get some tea and a biscuit, and I'll fill you in on what to expect from their first year."

"Thank you, I'd really appreciate that."


	3. Chapter 3: Sorted and Settling In

Hannah didn't know whether to bless or curse the last name that made her first in line for everything done alphabetically. She followed the stern-looking Professor McGonagall over to the stool, her heart racing in her chest. Sitting down, she felt the Hat lowered onto her head.

 _Ah, what have we here? Oh, you're not hard to sort, my girl, not hard at all. There's courage enough, reasonable brains - but lass, if you haven't got a Hufflepuff heart through and through, I'll eat myself._ And it shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

On shaky legs, she walked over to the Hufflepuff table, where she was enthusiastically welcomed by the older students, some of whom actually leapt from their seats to hug her. "It's good luck if we get the first student sorted," explained a fourth-year boy with a disarming smile, who introduced himself as Cedric Diggory.

Susan Bones quickly followed her, to her immense relief. She had found the pureblood girl to be good company on the train, and hoped, being in the same House, they could be friends. 

She tried not to flinch when a transparent, filmy specter rose _through_ the table, but the ghost in question was so fat and comfortable-looking, and had such a cheerful smile on his face, that her fear dissipated immediately and she couldn't help but smile back. "An Abbott, are you, my dear? What good luck for a friar, to get an Abbott straightaway! I am Brother Joseph, called the Fat Friar, and I shall serve you with all obedience, I swear it!" He bowed to her, with an elegant flourish and a twinkle in his eye that made her laugh, then turned courteously to Susan. "Amelia's niece, then? I am glad to see you here. Your aunt does credit to our House, and I am certain you will too."

One after another, students were called, and went one by one to their assigned places, to the cheers of their new Housemates. A boy named Justin Finch-Fletchley joined them shortly, followed by a Wayne Hopkins and a Megan Jones. Then Hannah looked up, startled, when she heard a name that had figured heavily in her mother's cautionary tales about the wizarding world.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

 _He survived!_ She watched the plump, nervous-looking boy, holding a live toad gently in his cupped hands, as the Hat was lowered onto his head. _Please let him be in Hufflepuff. Please...we could be friends, I know we could, our parents were friends, and Mum would be glad to know we were too...pleasepleaseplease..._

The Hat seemed to be taking an awfully long time, and Hannah was nearly biting her tongue with the suspense when it spoke - but the word it spoke was "GRYFFINDOR!" and it was to the red and gold table that Neville ran, stopping briefly to return the Hat after having accidentally taken it with him. Hannah sighed in disappointment. _Oh, well. I'll make friends here, I'm sure I will._ She turned back to Susan, who was grilling a very patient Cedric about classes and teachers and what to expect.

There were only two more Hufflepuffs that day, but they couldn't have appeared more different from each other in personality. Ernie MacMillan gave her a friendly smile and joined in the conversation as if he'd been there all along, but Zacharias Smith held aloof and seemed to be sneering at everyone, making Hannah's hackles rise instinctively. _I don't suppose I can expect to like everyone in my House...and maybe he's quite nice, maybe I'm misjudging him._ Finally, it was time for them to go to their respective Common Rooms, and the Hufflepuff Prefect stood up and beckoned them to follow. She saw Neville and the other Gryffindors heading upstairs, on a separate set of stairs from the Ravenclaw group, but she and the other Puffs followed down, along with the Slytherins. On the bottom floor, the two groups parted ways, and the Hufflepuffs were led to an innocuous-looking pile of barrels across from a portrait of a bowl of fruit.

"Now here," said the Prefect with a smile, "is where you learn the first two official secrets of Hufflepuff House. The first has to do with that picture over there, a gift from our beloved Founder, Helga Hufflepuff herself - it's the route to the Hogwarts kitchens. All you have to do is tickle the pear." Hannah and Susan made the mistake of looking at each other, and burst simultaneously into giggles. The Prefect gave them a tolerant look, and said, "Our dear Founder had an eccentric sense of humor. Now, the house-elves who work there are generally quite friendly to Hufflepuffs and as long as you are polite and kind to them, and do not interfere with their work or get in their way, will cheerfully sneak you snacks, even after hours. Be aware that we have that privilege because the house-elves here are our friends and allies, and we do not tolerate them being treated with anything less than the utmost courtesy and respect." Zacharias Smith sniffed contemptuously, and the Prefect glared sternly at him. "That rule will be enforced _strictly_. The second secret - well, take a look at this barrel here. Just like all the others, right? Not exactly. If you tap on the others, or tap on this one in the wrong rhythm, you'll be doused in vinegar - nothing that hurts, just to embarrass anyone from another House who might take it upon themselves to invade our space without being invited by one of us. But tap here, in the pattern Hel-ga Huff-le-puff, like so, and see?"

The barrels swung inward, creating a small passageway into a room that shone gold in the sunlight. She followed the others in, looking around her with awe and delight. There were windows around the top of the room, that spread soft bright light everywhere, and everywhere, plants in pots and boxes and barrels reached for the light. Comfortable couches and armchairs, all in bright yellow and black, made cozy little nooks and conversation spaces dotted with little tables, bookshelves were carefully situated for easy reach, and a fireplace crackled merrily in the center of the far wall. _It's a Hobbit-hole!_ she thought. _Only bigger and brighter._ "I really do think we have the best Common Room," Cedric Diggory said over her shoulder, satisfaction in his voice, and she couldn't help but agree.

Professor Sprout was the last into the room, and carefully pulled the barrels into position behind her. "Welcome, all of you, to your new home away from home for the next seven years. Some of you have met me already," and here she smiled at Hannah and Justin, who had both been part of her early tour for Muggle-borns and half-bloods with Muggle upbringings, "but for those of you who haven't, I am Pomona Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff House and Professor of Herbology. I will be teaching you in class about the wonders of magical plant life and how to nurture, care for, prepare and use the magical properties of the lovely flora around us. Outside of class, as your Head of House, I am here to help you with anything you need during your time at Hogwarts - within reason, I can't get you a pony, that's Hagrid's department - so please do not hesitate to call on me whenever you require it."

She gestured to her side, seemed to realize that there was no one there, and turned, revealing a small...creature? person? hiding shyly behind her robes. Professor Sprout beckoned the little being forward, and...he? she?...stepped up and made a little curtsy. She, then. She was about half of Professor Sprout's already-short height, and most of her was head, with huge ears and eyes. What appeared to be a neatly-laundered, flower-patterned pillowcase served her as a sort of tunic. "This is Nibsy. For those of you who have not seen one before, she is a house-elf, and she has been particularly assigned to me as my assistant, aide-de-camp, and irreplaceable right hand. She has been working with me for upwards of thirty years now, and she is an expert Herbologist. Respect her skills and do not underestimate her."

They all nodded, but Hannah noticed that Zacharias rolled his eyes slightly as he did so.

"Now, your things have already been brought in and placed by your beds - the door to the girls' dormitory is there, and the boys' is over there - and your owls have been taken to the Owlery where, I am assured, they are quite comfortable, so now, let us relax and have a little celebration to welcome you all to Hogwarts."

 _Dear Mum,_

 _I hope you're doing well at home - I'm absolutely fine here. I've been sorted into Hufflepuff, like Dad, and I'm already making friends. Susan and Megan and I are the only girls in the first-year dormitory, but we get along very well and I like both of them very much. The boys are Ernie and Justin and Zacharias, and well, the first two are quite nice. Zacharias is...well, he mostly stays away from everyone and does his own thing. All of the older students have been very kind to us so far - especially one of the fourth-years, Cedric, who's gotten the nickname Everyone's Big Brother for a reason. Megan's got a crush on him already, though of course he's too much older than us for her to have any hope. Our House Ghost - every house has one, and ours is the least scary of the lot, I promise - is the Fat Friar, whose real name is Brother Joseph. He got executed for witchcraft in the Middle Ages because he cured one too many Muggles of the Plague and they got scared of him, but really, he's incredibly sweet, and he teases me a lot - in a good way - about my last name, promising to obey me "as any good monk should obey his Abbott." He sits around with us sometimes in the Common Room telling us funny stories and gossiping about the other ghosts._

 _We've got the most beautiful Common Room, too - it's bright and gold and cozy and full of plants. I'm learning an awful lot about plants, actually, and Professor Sprout's always willing to talk about them, so maybe I can be more helpful in the garden when I get home for the holidays._

 _That boy you mentioned, Neville Longbottom, the son of Dad's old friends, is here too, but he's in Gryffindor House, so I haven't really had a chance to talk to him. He seems nice enough, the few times I've actually been around him, but he's a bit clumsy and shy, he doesn't smile much, and his toad keeps running away. He gets picked on a lot by one of the Slytherins, a nasty little blond boy who acts like he's King of the Universe because his Dad's some rich important wizard guy, but Neville's always kind to everyone as far as I've seen. At least his friends in Gryffindor stick up for him. One of them's the famous Harry Potter you told me about, who killed Voldemort when he was only a baby. He doesn't seem all that amazingly powerful, though, and he doesn't seem stuck-up or anything either - he's just an ordinary kid, and I mean that in a nice way. He's pretty friendly to everyone, too._

 _I've been doing OK in lessons so far, I think. You met Professor Sprout, and then there's Professor Flitwick, who's a short little man who teaches Charms - he's a really good teacher, friendly and helpful, and everyone respects him, despite his size. I've learned to float a feather in the air already, and if I concentrate really hard, sometimes I can get one of my books to levitate a bit too. Professor McGonagall teaches Transfiguration - we're all kind of afraid of her. It's not that she's mean, not really, and she's not unfair, but she's tall and stern and sharp, and if you do or say something stupid she gives you a look that makes you want to sink through the floor, and you'd better pay attention and finish your homework in her class Or Else. Professor Binns is an actual ghost, and I think he's been teaching the same History of Magic lessons since well before he died. It's dull, but I'm not doing badly, because at least the textbook is interesting. Professor Snape teaches Potions - he's scarier than McGonagall, because he can be downright mean if you do something wrong or make a mistake, but I haven't been making too many mistakes, and I stay quiet, and he doesn't pick on me much. Professor Hooch teaches Flying, which is fun. It's like riding a roller coaster, only on a broomstick. Cedric says we all ought to try out for the Quidditch team - he's the Seeker and the captain - but he's only kidding, we're still too young for that really. I don't think I want to, anyway. You know me, sports really aren't my thing. Defense Against the Dark Arts sounded exciting, but Professor Quirrell's kind of twitchy and doesn't seem to be really good at teaching practical things. It's OK, though, I bet it gets better as we get older. You didn't want me fighting anyway, right?_

 _Melisande seems to be doing fine in the Owlery - I think she's making friends too. Every now and then I go to visit her, and she's usually perched close to one of the other owls, preening each other. Most often Susan's Guinevere- I think they're best friends. Like us, and Megan too, of course, but she doesn't have an owl, she has a cat named Baker, because he likes to knead with his paws. He's definitely Megan's cat, but when she's not around, he'll sit in any lap he can find. He's awfully soft, and he purrs like a motorboat. I think he helps me study._

 _Which I'd really better get back to doing, or Professor McGonagall will glare at me. I hope everything's OK there, and you've got some fresh bread in the oven - the food's good here, but I really miss the smell of baking bread._

 _Lots of love,_

 _Hannah_


	4. Chapter 4: Someone To Talk To

Neville sat alone in the library, his Potions homework on the table staring up at him with a truly Snapelike air of judgment and accusation, and tried to pretend he didn't mind. Harry, Ron and Hermione had gone off together to do something they were very secretive about, and Dean and Seamus were involved in a very intense game of Exploding Snap in the Common Room, so it was just him, as usual. It wasn't that he wasn't OK with being alone - he was certainly used to it, after a childhood spent being homeschooled by his grandmother, with no other children in the neighborhood - but...he heard his grandmother's stern voice in his head, and instinctively sat up straight. _Self-pity is about the least attractive trait a person can have, lad. You're a good boy, you'll make friends right enough - you just have to make yourself more socially adept. Don't go on so about plants - I know Algernon's filled your head with them since you could talk, but they don't interest everyone the way they do you two. Be polite and friendly to everyone, and watch what the others do to make friends and copy it._

He sighed. _I'm sorry, Gran. I keep trying, I do, but I always end up saying or doing something awkward or stupid, always end up being the odd man out. Why couldn't I have been in Hufflepuff? Gran says the Sorting Hat doesn't make mistakes, but it must have been going crazy to tell me what it did. "Yes, lad, you'd do well enough in Hufflepuff, true - but you're needed in Gryffindor." By whom? "Not since Godric Gryffindor himself wore me have I found someone more true to the spirit of his House, I promise you." Somehow, I doubt Godric Gryffindor tripped over his own feet or kept losing his pet or couldn't make a decent Potion to save his life...what on Earth was the Hat smoking? Or maybe this is its idea of a practical joke. Stick the most cowardly, least capable, most clumsy person possible in Gryffindor, and watch him stumble around trying to fit in._

 _But...Gran was right about self-pity. It's all right, I can make it through, at least no one in Gryffindor is actively mean to me. I'm used to this, it's just the way things are. And I'd better buck up and focus on my homework so I don't fail._

He became suddenly aware of a figure standing shyly just a bit behind and to the side. He turned, to see a pretty blonde girl wearing Hufflepuff robes. "Er, hello. Are you looking for someone?"

"You're Neville Longbottom, aren't you?"

 _Me? Why's she looking for me? "_ Yes, that's me."

"I'm Hannah Abbott. My father was Michael Abbott, and he was an Auror - he worked with your parents."

Neville turned to face her so fast he almost got whiplash. "My parents?'

She nodded, running an awkward hand through her hair. "We've met, actually. But I don't think you remember it - I don't, either, the only reason I know is that Mum told me. We were only babies, but your parents invited mine over for dinner, and we played together. Apparently I threw peas at you. I'm sorry."

He found himself smiling. "I don't think I've been carrying a grudge."

"Anyway, my father got killed in action, and, well, Mum took me and moved as far away as she could get and still be in Britain."

"Gran did pretty much the same for me," he said ruefully. "I'm sorry about your father."

"I'm sorry about your parents, too. So I thought you might like to have this." She perched on the chair next to him, slid a picture out of the envelope she was carrying and handed it to him, delicately holding only the edges. "Mum sent it to me, and Professor Flitwick helped me make a copy for you. I know, you probably have lots of pictures of them, but..."

He took a look, and had to remind himself to keep breathing, and not cry in front of this girl whom he suddenly desperately did not want to run away from him. There were his parents as he had always imagined them, whole and happy, his father cradling him in the crook of his elbow and smiling proudly down at him while his mother leaned in, laughing, to pretend to nibble his toes. The happiness beaming from his little baby face...a _ll I ever wanted..._ He had to force himself to respond to her implied question. "No, I don't. Gran has some, but not many at all with them and me together. And she doesn't like to take them out and look at them much. Thank you, I, uh...Where did you get this?"

"My dad took it - he charmed the camera to levitate so it could get all four of them, and us too. That's him there, and Mum."

He had to tear his eyes away to see the other couple, and the little girl on her mother's lap, clapping her hands and laughing at the camera. "That's you, right?"

"Yes." She ducked her head, shyly. "I always used to...you're probably going to think I'm stupid, or silly, but I used to wish you and I had grown up friends, the way they wanted us to. Everyone else at school thought I was a freak, but I could have talked about the magic with you."

He smiled at her, just a little, but for once the smile actually reached his eyes. "I don't think you're stupid at all. I'd've liked that too. Gran taught me at home, and I didn't have any friends at all my own age, just family. But I didn't think I had any magic for a long time."

"I didn't even know magic was real until I was six. Mum was hoping I'd be a Squib, so she could keep me safe from the people who killed Dad."

"My family were all afraid I was a Squib. They kept trying things to get me to show my magic, but nothing worked until Uncle Algie dropped me out a second-story window when I was eight."

Hannah's hands flew to her mouth. "You could have been killed!"

He shrugged. "I wasn't. I bounced. I remember - it was like being a big rubber ball. The best fun I'd had in ages."

"But if you had been a Squib..."

"I'm sure Uncle Algie would have found a way to save me." _Of course he would have. Uncle Algie loves me,_ he told himself firmly."He's not mean or anything, he's just a bit odd. How did you find out you had magic?"

"Mum was feeling tired after work, so I thought I'd try and make her a cup of tea - but I couldn't reach the tea kettle, because she kept it up high, because, well, I was six and shouldn't be playing with tea kettles and boiling water and all. So I was standing there, frustrated, wishing I could just call it down - and it started to float down all on its own. And Mum came into the room and saw, and she screamed, and I dropped it. Luckily it was made of metal, not glass, and it wasn't full of water yet, but it startled us both. She's still not really happy about me being a witch. She wants me to come home after I take my O.W.L.s, and go to a Muggle university, and just, you know, switch off the magic and be 'normal'." She sighed heavily.

"You can't do that, though. It's not something you can get rid of or ignore like that." Now it was he who was indignant on her behalf.

"She doesn't understand, though. And she only wants to keep me safe. She already lost Dad - I'm all she has left."

"It's hard, being the last of your family, isn't it? There's so much pressure to be everything everyone wants you to be."

"Dad would have been proud of me, at least, for getting into Hogwarts and being a Hufflepuff like him," she said wistfully.

"My parents would've been proud to see me in Gryffindor too...except, only the Hat really thinks I belong there." He sighed heavily and looked down at his Potions homework, which had not magically begun to make sense since the last time he'd looked down at it.

"The Hat's never wrong, they say. But it would have been nice to have you in Hufflepuff."

He looked up at her, startled. _No one's ever actually wanted my company before. But...she doesn't really know me, she's just saying that because our parents were friends._ "I wanted Hufflepuff. Argued with the Hat for ages about it, but honestly, it must be going crazy. I'm not nearly brave enough for Gryffindor."

"Maybe you just haven't had reason to be yet."

"Maybe. Listen, um. Most of the other kids in our year don't know about my parents, and I'd rather keep it that way, if you don't mind. It's not that I'm not proud of them, I am - but I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me - or for them, and I really don't want anyone to laugh at them. They were...everything I want to be someday, they're my heroes, and I don't want them put down because of what happened to them."

"I understand. I won't tell anyone. And I'd never laugh at them." She paused and looked under the table. "I think your toad's trying to make a break for it."

"Trevor! Get back here!" He dove under the table and came back up, toad clutched gently in his hands. "He likes the library - there are all sorts of odd bugs for him to find - but Madam Pince doesn't like it when he wanders unsupervised. And I'm afraid someone will step on him. And I don't like to leave him in the Common Room, because I'm afraid the others' owls will eat him. Owls like toads, you know, and the magic that keeps them from eating other people's pets isn't perfect. But he keeps trying to get away and explore."

She giggled. "Poor little toad."

Neville stroked Trevor's head gently with a finger, and the toad lifted his head into the caress, seemingly enjoying it. "It's all right, Trev. I'll find you some big juicy bookworms when I'm done with my Potions homework, I promise."

"In that case, I'd better let you get back to it. I've got Transfiguration myself, and I'm scared of what McGonagall will do to me if I don't finish it."

"She's not so bad. She's like Gran. If you do your best, all of your best, she won't be mean to you. Disappointed, maybe, if your best isn't good enough for her. But not mean. Snape, on the other hand," he shuddered. "He scares me."

"He scares everyone. Don't let it get you down. I'll see you around, OK?"

"All right. Thanks, for the picture and everything."

"You're welcome. It's nice to have someone I can talk to about, you know, things like this."

"Yeah. It is."


	5. Chapter 5: Carrying On the Tradition

Cedric had a spring in his step as he walked into the Common Room. It had been a thoroughly fine day for Quidditch practice, and the team was coming together beautifully. _We should be a force to be reckoned with this year, even if Gryffindor has that brilliant new first-year Seeker. Gotta give the kid credit, mind you- it isn't often first-years get put on the team. McGonagall's taking a risk, which must mean Potter made a pretty spectacular catch._

In a corner, he noticed Brother Joseph hovering over one of the first-years - _oh, it's little Hannah. She's a sweet kid, but a bit shy. I wonder where Susan and Megan are? They're usually together._

"It's no good, Brother Joseph, I'm sorry, I just can't focus. It all runs together in my head and I lose track so easily..."

"Perhaps Mr. Diggory can help?" The monk turned an inquiring face in his direction. "As I recall, he does reasonably well in History of Magic."

"When I can stay awake. Professor Binns' lectures are as old as he is. Why don't you apply for the position, Brother Joseph? I mean, you've seen quite a lot of it, more even than old Binns, and you're far more interesting."

"What, and leave poor old Cuthbert out in the cold? Where would he go, if he could not teach? What would he do?" Brother Joseph was genuinely distressed.

"All right, all right, we'll keep on sleeping through class. For Professor Binns's sake. So what are you having trouble with, anyway, Hannah?"

"Nothing specific, I just can't remember everything. There's too much, it all swirls around on the page and slips away from me, and I can't keep track of it! I'm going to fail and they're going to send me home and I'm never going to be able to use magic again, and..." Her voice was tight and panicked, sounding as if she was losing her breath, and Brother Joseph bent over her in concern, trying and failing to pat her on the shoulder with a misty hand.

"Hey, hey, calm down, it's all right." Cedric knelt by the girl's chair and took her hands. "Breathe, Hannah, you're all right. In and out, that's it."

She nodded, and took a deep breath obediently, holding on to his hands like a lifeline.

"Now, listen to me. No one's going to send you home. Not even if you fail History of Magic. They can't. You have the magic, you belong here."

"Even if Mum won't let me come back?"

"They'll come get you. Wizarding law says that a witch or a wizard has the right to a magical education, even if Muggle parents don't want to let them. At worst, the Ministry's obliviated parents before, if they've threatened to keep their kids home by force or expose the wizarding world."

He knew he'd said the wrong thing right then, as her eyes widened in horror. "I don't want Mum to forget me! She's all I have left! And I miss her so much, but I don't want to go home...I don't know what to do, Cedric, I feel so selfish because I need the magic but I love Mum too..."

"You're not selfish. Not at all. The magic is a part of you, and it needs to be used. You can't be yourself without it, you'll go crazy. That's why the Ministry is so strict about making sure you can be trained, because they know you need it. But I'm sure it won't come to that. Your Mum loves you, too, doesn't she? And she knew about your father, and loved him, didn't she?"

"Yes, but he died, and she said he died because of the magic...and she's afraid I'll die too..."

"Tell her you have lots of friends who will do anything to protect you. Because that's true. We will." He squeezed her hand reassuringly, and smiled at her. "Hufflepuffs look after our own."

Brother Joseph nodded emphatically. "That we do."

"Now, let's take a look at this History of Magic stuff. We'll get you through that, too. Promise."

She smiled at him and looked down at her notes. "Thanks, Cedric. You're the best adopted older brother a girl could have."

He felt Brother Joseph's approval like a sunbeam on his shoulders. "Well done, lad," he heard, whispered in his ear as the monk folded his hands into his sleeves and slipped away. He smiled at the place where the ghost had been, before leaning over to see the pages Hannah was showing him. _I could get used to being someone people look up to, someone like Tonks was for me. Just carrying on the tradition._ The feeling gave him a warm glow.

 _Dear Mum,_

 _I promise, I promise, it's not as bad as it sounds. There was only one troll, and three of the Gryffindors killed it, pretty easily. First-years, at that, so it wasn't as if it was really dangerous. I never even saw it. And yeah, Professor Quirrell turned out to be a bit mad, but it was only Harry Potter he went after, none of the rest of us. He barely even noticed I existed - I even got decent grades in DADA while he was teaching. Cedric says that's typical - the bad guys never worry about Hufflepuff until we fight, and then they notice us, all right. But honestly, there's no reason we have to fight, since both the troll and Quirrell are dead, so no need for you to worry. Cedric says normally things aren't anywhere near this exciting here. Mrs. Weasley might be telling you scary things, but you said she wasn't worried by them, and all her boys are still at Hogwarts, right? And they're in Gryffindor, and Ron's Harry Potter's best friend, so they're in way more danger than we are, if there really was any danger. Neville Longbottom's still here too, and he's the last of his family, just like me._

 _Anyway, we're perfectly safe in Hufflepuff. No non-Hufflepuff has ever gotten into our Common Room without being invited by one of us, and none of us are going to hurt any of the others. And I've got both Cedric and Brother Joseph looking out for me - I doubt there's anyone who can get past them._

 _And I'm having so much fun here, Mum! I finally fit in someplace, I've got friends, no one makes fun of me for being strange, and I'm learning interesting things. Professor Snape even gave me ten points for Hufflepuff the other week because I got my Forgetfulness Potion right. And we have cozies every Friday, with cocoa and cookies and the older students helping us with any homework or studying we're having trouble with - Professor Sprout says Ravenclaw might be more naturally smart, but we in Hufflepuff can get just as far as they can or farther because we work hard, we help each other, and we don't get distracted the way they do._

 _Just let me come back to Hogwarts next year. Please? I promise I won't get killed._

 _Love,_

 _Hannah_


	6. Chapter 6: Overheard on the Train

Neville counted again to make sure he had all his belongings before boarding the train. He whispered a word or two of comfort to Trevor, who hated his carrying cage and was clearly plotting to escape it as soon as possible, and found himself a place at the back of a knot of students waiting to get on. They were chattering merrily and did not notice him, and he looked down awkwardly, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. But he couldn't help overhearing, especially when he heard his own name.

"Anyway, it's a good thing Slytherin didn't win this time, even if it's just because Dumbledore's as biased in Gryffindor's favor as Snape is in Slytherin's...can you believe that ten points he slipped that Longbottom just to make the Gryffs win this time?"

"Oh, come on, Ernie, Neville deserved those points. Dumbledore's right, it does take guts to stand up to people you actually want to like you." The voice was Hannah's, and his heart warmed to her. _Even if Ernie's right..._

"You're too nice, Hannah. I mean, Longbottom's OK and all, he's not like Malfoy or Parkinson, but he's not exactly the hero of Hogwarts."

"He might surprise you someday."

"Got a crush, Hannah?" the redheaded girl standing next to her- _Susan Bones, isn't it?_ \- asked, teasingly.

 _No, no, no, don't say things like that, or she'll feel awkward and stop wanting to be friends with me..._ Neville bit his lip and looked down at his feet. It wasn't as if they were particularly close - they'd chatted a few times over the year, when they got a chance - but he felt comfortable around Hannah in a way he didn't feel around most people, he could talk to her about things she understood and no one else did, and he really did not want to lose that.

But Hannah's tone was relaxed, if exasperated. "Oh, for Pete's sake, Susan, stop trying to pair everyone off! He's just a friend, that's all. But he's a really good person and he's been through a lot, so lay off him, OK?"

"All right, all right, I never said he wasn't a good person. If he's your friend, he must be." Ernie patted Hannah on the back comfortingly - and a bit condescendingly, Neville thought.

At that moment, the train doors opened, and they all clambered on, one after another. Neville was careful to stay hidden in the back of the crowd, and found himself a quiet corner of one car to sit in well away from the Hufflepuff group, not wanting them to know he'd overheard. But there was a little bright happy spark in his heart that hadn't been there before, and he treasured it all the way home. _Someone actually likes me. And not because she has to, like family or the other Gryffindors - just because she wants to._


	7. Chapter 7: Mandrakes and Mourning

_Dear Hannah,_

 _What's this I hear about people being petrified? Is that like a coma, or some sort of disease, or a poisoning? I hear from the school that at least one Hufflepuff was affected - tell me you're still all right, dearest! And who's this Heir to Slytherin? Is it that Potter boy? Even Mrs. Weasley sounds worried._

 _I've half a mind to come up there and get you this instant. That school isn't safe._

 _Love always,_

 _Mum_

 _Dear Mum,_

 _It's only a few people, so far. Only Muggle-born, not purebloods or halfbloods like me, so you might be in more danger than me if you come up. Please stay home and safe. I'll be fine. The only Hufflepuff they got is Justin, and we're all worried about him, but Madam Pomfrey says he's going to be just fine. We're growing mandrakes in Herbology which will make everyone who's been petrified better, she says._

 _And our DADA Professor is Gilderoy Lockhart, and he's this amazing wizard who's fought off werewolves and yetis and vampires and everything. He'll take care of this Heir person, I'm sure of it. Tracking down and hunting strange monsters and evil people is just a walk in the park to him - he does it all the time._

 _And no, Harry's not the Heir of Slytherin, even Ernie admits he can't be now - one of his best friends got petrified, and he'd never have hurt her. We went and apologized to him for thinking he was, and he was really nice about it._

 _Please, please, don't come get me. I'll be home for summer soon enough. I promise I won't get killed._

 _Love,_

 _Hannah_

Hannah had been worried ever since Herbology class. _It's not like Neville to be careless with his equipment...not in Herbology at least._ And she hadn't seen Neville since - so when she finally found her friend sitting by the lake, staring out across the water, she went over and sat down next to him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Madam Pomfrey said I just needed a rest, that's all. And Professor Sprout gave me a stern lecture on being careful with my earmuffs." His face was deliberately still, and he was clearly making his best effort to sound casual and dismissive.

"You know, I was watching you, to make sure I had my earmuffs on properly, because I knew you always get it right in Herbology. You had them on correctly, I know you did- what made you..."

He sighed, and looked her square in the eye. "It's the screaming, all right? I heard some of it through the earmuffs, and it sounded like..." The words seemed to catch in his throat, and he looked away again, focused on the ground in front of him as if it had suddenly sprouted some new and unusual plant he had to study right then. "Like Mum."

Hannah realized what he was saying, and her eyes widened in horror, a hand flying to her mouth. "Oh, Neville. You were there. You heard her..."

"When Mum...yes. Gran said I was, anyway. I don't remember. The Aurors found me hiding in a closet. Mum fought so hard, she kept the Death Eaters too busy to find me before the Aurors came, Gran said - she saved my life, but she..." his voice caught. "I don't remember it, not...consciously, but..." He swallowed hard. "I don't like screaming."

Tears gathered in her own eyes. "I wouldn't either, if I were you. Oh, Neville, that's awful, I'm so sorry." She put a gentle hand on his shoulder, but he flinched away.

"Please don't. Pity me, I mean. It's all right, it's just...I can deal with it, I've dealt with it all my life, I'm all right." He still couldn't meet her eyes.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want, but...it's all right not to be all right, you know. You had something horrible happen to you, you don't need to pretend it's fine. With me, anyway. I won't tell anyone, or laugh at you, or anything. I swear."

"Gran says tears won't bring them back. She says I should use my energy trying to be more like them instead. I've got to be strong like them, and I'm not."

She bit her lip. "I remember when Mrs. Finch down the street told Mum she shouldn't be crying for Dad, that she should be being strong for me, and Mum said, 'I am being strong for Hannah. I'm showing her that I can mourn, and miss her father, and still go on doing what I need to do anyway.' Maybe that's what you need to do. Mourn them properly, so you can go on doing what you need to do. And you are strong. I don't know too many people who can go through what you've been through, and still keep going. Not just your parents, but...everything. Malfoy, Snape, all the crap people give you, and you never stop trying, you don't hide or crumble, you just keep going. You're the strongest person I know, besides Mum."

Clearly, it was a concept that had never occurred to him before, and he glanced at her, startled. "I have to keep going. I can't just stop."

"I know. But that's still being strong, even if you don't have a choice. And you can be strong and grieve for them, too. Don't they deserve to be mourned? I cry for Dad all the time - does that make me weak?"

He ducked his head again, and she saw his shoulders shake. He wept silently, tears racing down his cheek but no sound, as if he'd had his voice switched off. She reached out and took his hand, as Cedric would have done for her, and let him cry. Her Mum had always told her it helped more than she knew, when Mum cried for Dad and Hannah just sat with her quietly. Maybe it was the right thing to do here, too.


	8. Chapter 8: A Friar's Quiet Counsel

The Fat Friar drifted gently over to the boy huddled in a ball in front of the Gryffindor Common Room entrance, coughing quietly in order not to startle him. "Mr. Longbottom? I have been sent on two separate commissions - from my dear Pomona and my little Abbott - to ensure that you are all right. "

Neville sat up quickly, and the Friar noted that he sat up as straight as possible, trying very hard to maintain some semblance of dignity. "I'm fine, sir, thank you for asking." But his pale face and the higher pitch of his words gave away more than he clearly wanted to.

His hands tucked away as usual in his sleeves, the Friar melted into the ground until he reached the boy's eye level. "Minerva is as frightened as you are, lad, and she is more severe with you because of it. Rest assured, you will be back in her good graces soon."

"I've never been in her good graces, and I don't deserve to be. I'm no good at magic, I'm not brave enough to be a real Gryffindor - the Hat must have been crazy, I should be with you and Professor Sprout and Hannah in Hufflepuff - and I've just almost gotten Harry killed, and if Black had murdered him, there goes the whole war, all at once. Everything everyone's been...everything my parents were fighting for...all gone, and all my fault. I deserve this and worse." The words burst from him in a flood, and he brushed hastily at his face, trying to pretend he wasn't about to cry.

Brother Joseph fought the instinctive urge to reach his arms out to the child, wishing he could truly put them around him and have him feel the embrace instead of having it pass straight through him."Oh, my dear boy. Listen to me. Listen well. Everything you have just said is false." Neville looked up at him, startled, about to protest, but the Friar put a finger to his lips, shushing him. "And I will tell you why. First, Minerva loves all her chicks, and always has, no exceptions. She may be impatient with you, but it is only her way - she wants only to encourage you to find what she knows is within you. Second, you may be a late bloomer when it comes to many forms of magic, but that signifies nothing. nothing at all. So was your father before you, and he did quite well in the end. Talent takes time - and some of the strongest talents are the slowest to manifest themselves."

Neville's eyes went wide. "Dad was...was like me? Clumsy and awkward and slow? But Gran always says he was a prodigy..."

"I suspect Augusta is inclined to idolize the son she lost, and forgets his early failings, as people do. Frank was a good, good man, never believe otherwise, and he became a highly skilled wizard and Auror as an adult - but when he was your age, he had his share of disasters and struggles. Especially in Potions. He melted his own cauldron more than once, I'll tell you - and only his old friend Kingsley's quick thinking saved him from melting a hole in the castle floor on at least one occasion."

The stunned look on Neville's face was almost amusing, had the Friar not been so concerned for him. "And while he had a bit of your gift in Herbology, you quite outstrip him there already- even Pomona was not as skilled as you are when she was your age."

He blushed, clearly not used to praise. "But that's just plants, I've always loved plants. It's not, you know, _real_ magic."

The Friar turned stern. "Do _NOT_ let Pomona hear you say that, please. She will put you in charge of pruning the Venomous Tentacula until you remember just how much magic, and how much skill, Herbology demands. And I suspect that of all her students, you are the only one who would easily survive such an assignment."

Neville even smiled a bit. "It likes it when I sing to it."

"So it does, and I have _never_ , in all my years, seen a student charm it so before. But to return to our topic at hand, let me address the third false statement you have made, and prove it false. You have said you are no true Gryffindor - but lad, it is clearly not so. It is true, I, and Pomona, and my little Abbott, would have dearly loved to have you among us as a Hufflepuff, and you would have done our House proud, never doubt it. But you are Gryffindor through and through, and the proof is right before me. Only a true Gryffindor would see Minerva in a rage over a mistake he made, and be brave enough to speak up and admit to that fault, and take his punishment like a man. You did the honorable and courageous thing, and you need never fear You-Know-Who or the worst of his followers again, because not one of them can compare to an angry Minerva McGonagall."

A laugh escaped the boy before he could stop it. "But I still made that mistake, and almost got Harry killed. You have to admit that." He was almost pleading to be proven wrong now, Brother Joseph noted with affectionate amusement.

"Child, all of us have made mistakes, many of them, sometimes crucial ones. You are far too young to expect perfection from yourself - I myself am nine hundred and ninety-five years old last October, and I have not achieved that mark yet. " He wondered whether to add, _And those who know what you have endured in your very earliest youth surely understand why you have difficulties with memory,_ but decided that that would be perhaps a step too far. "You confessed to your fault like an honest penitent, you are doing your penance willingly - surely you shall be forgiven. But make no mistake - should Mr. Potter have been murdered by Black, it would have been Black who struck the blow, Black who made the choice, and Black who bore the guilt of it, not you." _And did I ever think to see the day when Sirius Black would have betrayed James Potter, and would seek to murder James's son, who looks so like him? Blessed Virgin, tell me, how can it be possible?_ "Do not take what is not yours, even guilt."

Neville nodded quietly, dropping his eyes to the floor.

"And if Potter had fallen...the war would not yet be lost. Our hopes rest far too much, I think, on the slender shoulders of one young boy. He is brave and strong and kind, but he is a boy. Rest assured, Dumbledore has contingency plans in effect should he fail, or fall. And one of them, lad, is surely you yourself."

"Me? Why would he have any plans involving me?"

"Because you are the other boy who might have been the Chosen One of the prophecy." From Neville's expression, he was not unfamiliar with that fact, the Friar noted. _Probably Augusta told him - and probably with the clear implication that he had failed to measure up to the position. Or am I being uncharitable to her?_

"Prophecies are notoriously malleable, especially in the hands of a clever and persuasive man like Albus Dumbledore. If Potter proves unable to stop He Who Must Not Be Named, Dumbledore will surely seek to convince the wizarding world that the prophecy was not wrong, but that Potter was not its true target - you were."

Neville visibly shuddered. "I don't want to be the Chosen One." He looked up at the Friar, biting his lip. "I mean, I want to fight. I'm going to fight. I've got to avenge my parents, after all. And...if they win, there's no safe future for any of us, so I've got to fight, and fight to the death if I need to. But I don't want to be the center of everything. I'm not a leader, not like Harry, and I'm not really great at DADA either."

"Not yet. But you can be. And you will be, if you are called on, because you can do nothing else, and because your Gryffindor heart will not let you fail when you are most needed. I suggest, lad, that you begin to watch Harry as closely as you can and learn from him, learn from Remus and Minerva and Albus and every other leader you can observe. Practice your magic, work hard at it - you have the Hufflepuff virtues as well as the Gryffindor, and they will serve you well too. There is greatness in you, my boy, and it very well might be needed in this fight. If Harry lives, he will need strong allies to help him - he cannot bear all the burden of this war himself. And if he falls - we will all need you more than ever." _A heavy burden for a thirteen-year-old, be it Longbottom or Potter or both. But I have seen teenage boys go to war before, and some of them never to return...alas for the ways of war and destruction, and all I can do is pray for victory and peace, as always._ if a ghost could shed tears, he would have wiped one away in that moment.

Neville took a long deep breath, and nodded once, solemnly. "I'll do that, sir. I'll work hard, so I can be ready for...whatever is needed. Thank you. And please...thank Professor Sprout and Hannah for being concerned about me, and tell them I'm all right."

"I will. Now rest, and fear not, the others will be here shortly." He rose through the floor to his full height, and lifted his hand in blessing briefly before he left.

 _Brave boy. No, no doubt whatsoever you are a Gryffindor, and one Godric himself would be proud of. But Helga would have loved you too, lad, with all her warm and generous heart. And once the war is over and we are all at peace, God willing, may you find time and space to explore your Hufflepuff side as well, for I told only the truth when I said you've all of our virtues to boot. As your dear father and mother did before you - may our Lord and His Blessed Mother keep safe their poor tortured souls, and bring them to peace at last when their time comes._


	9. Chapter 9: Greatest Fears

"Now, class, are you ready to face your boggarts? Just remember, think of something that makes you laugh, and make the boggart take that form. Who wants to go first?" Remus Lupin beamed at the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw third-years before him.

Ernie MacMillan raised his hand enthusiastically as always, along with about half the Ravenclaws, while Hannah tried her best to look invisible. Susan whispered in her ear, "I hear Longbottom's boggart looked just like Professor Snape."

Hannah shuddered. "I believe it. He scares me too. What'd he do?"

"Put him in his grandmother's dress and a big hat with a vulture on it." Susan giggled quietly, and Hannah joined in, delighted.

"I would have paid money to see that..." she said wistfully. "What's yours going to be, do you think?"

Susan bit her lip thoughtfully. "Rats, probably. Something about the little sharp bitey teeth and the beady eyes. You?"

But Lupin's eyes had fallen upon them, and he called out briskly, "Miss Abbott, if you don't mind leaving your conversation for a moment, why don't you go first?"

Susan gave her a half-apologetic, half-sympathetic glance, and squeezed her shoulder supportively as she stepped forward. 

She had no idea what she was about to see - there were so many possibilities. But she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, pointing her wand at the wardrobe, relieved to see her hand wasn't shaking much at all.

The form shivered, solidified, and her mother lay before her, cold and lifeless, in a pool of disturbingly realistic blood. A shade rose above the corpse, her mother's ghost, and regarded her with the cool furious calm her mother had only ever used on her when she had been caught doing something truly awful. Hannah could hear her voice inside her mind: _This is your doing, Hannah. If you'd left the magic behind and come home, this would never have happened._ For a moment she froze, heartsick.

Lupin took a quick sharp breath, and moved to intervene, but before he could, Hannah gathered herself and cried out through the lump in her throat, "Riddikulus!" _Make it go away make it go away make it be something else...you don't mean it, Mum, you're just playing, it's just a joke..._

Her fierce thoughts must have had some effect, because the ghost vanished and her mother's shadowy "corpse" popped up, making the silly face she'd used to make Hannah laugh when she was a toddler.

She was surprised by the wash of profound relief that flooded her - _I knew it was only a boggard and not really Mum, didn't I? -_ and called out, much more firmly this time, "Riddikulus!"

The boggart vanished, with a soft popping sound, and Lupin patted her on the back. "Well done, Miss Abbott. Ten points to Hufflepuff." In a softer voice, he said, "Are you all right?"

She nodded, hoping her face didn't show how shaken she really was.

Susan gave her a worried look as she stepped back into place next to her, and a young Ravenclaw boy took her place to face down his greatest fear. "That was...upsetting."

Hannah nodded, not trusting herself to talk about it. Susan put an arm around her shoulder. "But you did it. You banished it. Good work, Han."

She smiled at her friend, appreciating the encouragement. "I did, didn't I? Your turn, now."

Susan grimaced back, clearly nervous, and took her place over where Professor Lupin was beckoning. Thankfully, her fear was just as she had anticipated - rats - so she was already prepared and quickly transformed them into a troupe of performing baby Nifflers, to everyone's delight. Hannah was almost sorry when Susan banished them with a smooth flick of her wand.

As the class finished and the students moved to depart, Lupin put a hand gently on Hannah's shoulder. "May I see you for a moment, Miss Abbott?"

"Yes, sir." She felt the usual clenching in her stomach that came with unexpected attention from teachers, but managed to look up at him with only mild interest on her face.

"The woman your boggart turned into - that was your Mum, wasn't it?"

Hannah nodded. "She's a Muggle - Dad was a wizard, but he was killed fighting Death Eaters as an Auror when I was a baby, and Mum's never been really happy with magic since. She worries about me...and I guess I worry about her too. We're the only family we've got, and we've always looked out for each other, and it feels like we have to live in different worlds now, and I guess I feel guilty about it."

"Understandable." He paused for a moment. "Do you have any reason to fear for her safety in real life? Is she ill, or has she received any threats, or suspicious visitors, or anything of the sort? Because I have... certain connections, I could get her some help and protection if she needs it."

"Thank you, sir, but...I don't think so, not really. She hasn't mentioned anything to me, anyway. And You-Know-Who's dead, isn't he? Harry Potter killed him. Why would anyone be going after Mum?"

Lupin's eyes were bleak, but he smiled reassuringly at her nonetheless. "Yes, of course, he's dead. And his followers are too weak and disorganized, and the Ministry watches them too carefully, for them to do anything as risky now as attack the Muggle parent of a Hogwarts student. No doubt your mother is perfectly safe. But just in case, if you ever feel you have real reason to fear for her, contact me or Dumbledore immediately. Has she any connections to the wizarding world other than you?"

"She's friends with Mrs. Weasley. Ron and Ginny's Mum, and the twins, you know, in Gryffindor. They met at Kings Cross, the first time she put me on the train, and Mrs. Weasley was really nice to her and talked to her about Hogwarts and the wizarding world and all that, and they've written back and forth ever since."

Was that a touch of relief in Lupin's eyes? "Molly Weasley is a blessing. Don't let the cozy exterior fool you, she's a force of nature when she needs to be. If Molly's looking out for your Mum, I wouldn't worry yourself at all. She'll be just fine."

"Thank you, sir." Hannah felt her stomach unclench, just a little. _They say he knew Sirius Black. Maybe he'd know..._ "Sir? Do you think...Sirius Black can change into things, and that's how he's getting into the castle?"

Lupin suddenly went very still. "What makes you say that?"

"It's just, I went up to the Owlery to visit Melisande, that's my owl, and I was sitting by the window and petting her feathers and talking to her, when I saw something move out of the corner of my eye, something dark and sneaking. I don't think it was a dementor because I didn't feel cold or sad, and I looked again, but it was all still..and there was only a bush or something, but I don't know if there was a bush there before...it sounds stupid, I know it does, but do you think Sirius Black can turn into a bush?"

His face relaxed, and he was definitely relieved this time. "No, no, no. Transfiguring oneself into vegetation isn't all that hard for an experienced wizard, but turning oneself back without help is very advanced magic and only a very few people could do something like that. Professor McGonagall might, but not Sirius Black. Now off with you."

She left, but as she did, she thought she heard him mutter under his breath, with a little chuckle, "A bush, indeed. Dogwood, no doubt..."

 _All right, so it was a stupid notion. But...why dogwood? Maybe I'm not wrong? What does Professor Lupin know about Sirius Black that we don't? I've got to talk this over with Susan and Ernie and Megan..._


End file.
